


Beneath the Hunter's Savage Moon

by Lucky107



Series: Strange Blood [7]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Animal Transformation, Blind Character, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Minor Spoilers, Minor Violence, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-08 04:51:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8831116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucky107/pseuds/Lucky107
Summary: With that ring on her finger, she must answer Hircine's call.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hunter's Moon - Celtic Thunder - 2013

"Farkas—" There's need in Elara's voice that Farkas has never heard before, forcing him to stop hesitantly in the Whiterun market. "—we need to go.  Right _now_."

"What is it?"

But there's no time for questions; he picks up the urgency in her voice as she clamps a hand down around her own wrist, isolating the fiercely shaking hand from the rest of her body.  By appearance, there's nothing out of the ordinary save for a silver ring with a wolf's face on the surface.

"The ring," Elara murmurs.  "My hand—my hand is on _fire_."

Farkas takes Elara by the hand and escorts her quickly - almost forcefully - through the streets to Jorrvaskr.  She stumbles in her blindness, but she doesn't complain.  The effects of the ring come on suddenly and swiftly - if they don't find somewhere more private—

Up the steps and to the left, Farkas leads Elara to the only place he can think to hide: the underforge.  Allowing her into Jorrvaskr proper in her current state would be suicide.  He can tell by her shortness of breath, the wild look in her sightless eyes, that this is no normal transformation.

With that ring on her finger, she _must_ answer Hircine's call.

The stone slides closed loudly at Farkas' back, alerting Elara to their location, but it's safe.  Secure.  Old Eorlund knows better than to stick his nose into Companion business, especially down in the underforge.

Elara stumbles once she frees herself from Farkas' grasp, clinging onto the rim of the altar for support.

"Can you fight it?"

The foreign power that seeps through her veins leaves her human legs fragile and weak.  "No...  No, it's too strong."

When Elara collapses to her knees, yowling painfully from deep within her throat, it takes everything in him not to rush to her. The sound is so unlike anything he's ever heard before, and the transformation moves slowly.  It starts at the hands, clawing and releasing against the stone altar before exploding in a dark mess of fur.  It's coarse and thick and wild, splitting the sleeves and further her bodice with its force.

That's when it hits him—the smell.

She no longer smells like Elara, even beyond the stench of the beast.  This new smell is feral and dangerous.  It's completely foreign to Farkas - it's Hircine.  The fine hairs on the back of his neck bristle at the thought.

This—not Sinding—is what killed that little girl in Falkreath.

If he's not careful, Farkas could have a real situation on his hands.  Whatever possessed Sinding, whatever brought him to maul a child in broad daylight, is what now possesses Elara - and Farkas isn't sure he has the strength to keep her at bay when the worst of the storm hits.

"Elara?"  He asks, but Elara doesn't respond.  Her face is long, wolfish and narrow—a large tongue lulls from slack jaws, dripping and foul—and her blind eyes dart left and right as if chasing after something he can't see.

Elara is gone.

There are no traces of her conscience left within the beast that stands before him.  If any of the Companions were to see her like this, they would never recognize her; she's a real monster, just as Sinding was when he wore the ring.

Once the wolf-like Elara catches onto Farkas' scent, likewise foreign and unfamiliar to the beast, her long face turns in his direction.  She cannot see him, but she can smell him—taste him—on the air.  And before Farkas has time to think, the beast lunges, wrestling him for access to the cave's sole exit.

Farkas tries not to let his fear consume him, lest she should smell it, but he's terrified.

He has never raised his voice before - not with her, not like this - but he knows if he doesn't find some way to reach her dormant conscience she'll rip his throat out.  "Elara!"  He hollers and those sightless eyes, more blind now than ever, roam over his face.

Snapping his jaws, as human as they are, Farkas lets out a ferocious howl of his own.  The strength surges like a wave, rushing through his veins to supply him with the power he needs to throw Elara off of himself.

Her claws scratch the stone, searching for traction where none exists.

It takes him less time, less fight, to connect with the beast blood within him.  _Stand down!_   His voice roars, a powerful boom that echoes within the small cavern.  Elara's ears flatten, but she does not obey him.  There's a defiance in her eyes that's unfamiliar to him; she snaps her jaw, her jagged teeth glistening.

It takes all of his strength when she comes at him again, but Farkas manages to keep himself upright and he pushes back against her manic struggle.  If it's the last thing he does, Farkas _will_ subdue her here.  He can't let her—let them—become like Sinding.

 _Move!_ Elara's howl bellows, fierce within its own right, and her strong jaw snaps at his shoulder.  The skin splits; blood spills from the thick skin and Elara's mind reels as the pungent scent cloaks the stale air.  The pain, however, does not come strong enough to break Farkas' focus.

What Elara sustains in ferocity, Farkas makes up in endurance.  They were the same for a time - wild and ruthless and strong - but their control differs greatly in this moment.  Elara is acting on Hircine's will; his strength runs through her veins, too powerful for a mortal to control.

Farkas clamps a large, clawed hand down around Elara's arm and pierces the tough skin with no restraint.  Lacking Farkas' self-control, she opens a split-second window of time in which he is able to overthrow her.

Using what strength he has over her, Farkas throws Elara down and straddles her large, beast-like body.  One hand rests over her throat, minimizing her room for resistance.  _Bastard!_   She growls in her struggle, but it's futile; the more she fights, the more her neck chafes.

The rest is a blur.

\- - -

When Elara awakens, everything is dark.

She blinks the sleep from her sightless eyes, but nothing is brought to clarity.  She's lying down.  The surface is soft - relatively so, anyway - and it's cold.  Her skin prickles against the tickle of fabric on bare appendages.

But where is she?

Vaguely, she remembers arriving at Whiterun... it had been midday; she had some weapons to run by Adrianne.  Now, Elara struggles to recall if they ever made it to Warmaiden's or what the conversation might have been when she arrived.  And that begs the question: how did she get here?

Elara moves to get up, but cannot.  Something strong—firm—fastens her to the bed.  It's warm, oddly so, and it takes only a moment to identify that something as a human arm.

_Farkas._

At the first sign of movement, he pulls her closer.  His breath is hot against the back of her neck when he whispers, "You're awake."

"When did we fall asleep?"  Elara asks.  "Rather... what's going on?"

She seems to recall nothing of the fight, though now her fingers are bare.  He will never allow her to wear that ring again—not so long as he's alive.  With gaps of her memory still intact, she seems to think it's midday.  She's been out for nearly twelve hours now.

Farkas is silent for a moment, slipping his arm free from her to touch the glaring red scratches on her arm.  His hands are large and rough, but against her skin they feel light and feathery; she doesn't seem to detect the guilt he feels.  "That ring awoke a dangerous hunger in you."

Elara seems surprised.  "Hircine's ring?"

A thoughtful silence falls between them, punctuated only by a soft kiss that he places against the back of her shoulder.  Elara shifts, searching in the dark for the arm Farkas drapes pleasantly over her middle, and she lets her hand rest there.  Both of them think—though only Farkas remembers—and the silence grows cold.

"... I'm sorry," comes Elara's voice in a whisper.  "I never should have... with Sinding... it was careless of me.

"You didn't know," Farkas assures.  He knows that just across the hall, Vilkas sits awake in his room and will not be sleeping with all the tension in the air.  Everyone is restless.  Nobody knows the details, but all of Whiterun heard the sounds of their conflict in the underforge.  
  
After a momentary lapse into silence, Elara asks, "Did I hurt you?"

Despite the bandages on his shoulder, Farkas tightens his hold on her and lies, "No.  You didn't hurt _anyone_."

There's a moment of relief, despite everything, that brings the tension down.  To hear it out loud—that nobody was hurt—confirms that the worst of the storm is finally over.


End file.
